


Clad in Fish-Scalemail

by Internet_XxxPl0r3rxxX



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Vicky's/Blue's Perspective
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 17:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16559918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Internet_XxxPl0r3rxxX/pseuds/Internet_XxxPl0r3rxxX
Summary: The students at Spooky High always seem to be rehearsing the same play. Same costumes, same stage, same roles. What if we took it even further? What if they did all that because those WERE their clothes, their roles, their very lives?





	Clad in Fish-Scalemail

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday gift for a friend, to be updated when time and creativity opt to work in tandem.

You awaken to the sound of your clock. At least, that's what you've settled on calling it, that little device full of cogs and gears which wakes you up at the crack of dawn without fail. It was made for you by your foster brother, the apprentice of the mad (but honestly rather nice) practitioner of sorcery who put you together so long ago from graveyard scraps. He intended for you to be his maid, dusting away the webs of poisonous spiders and resetting the dire-rat traps, but when you developed your own personality rather than remain a shambling automaton, he opted not to be a total dick and instead raised you like his daughter. You remember being childlike at first, which makes sense considering you were reborn. Over time and through many arduous nights of study and lecture, you began to learn of the world, of its intricacies and minute little details. Try as you might though, you could never learn any magical arts from dear old dad. You both agree it's likely due to the fact you're undead.   
Walking corpse or not, you were still his only child, and you were going to go out into the world sooner or later. For your 11th rebirthday you received a training sword and shield. On your 12th, you were taken to a proper master at arms to hone your skills in swordplay and general ass-kicking. After 2 years of bruises, scrapes, and classroom clashes with the other students, one final arduous duel against your teacher granted you his seal of approval and got you decreed ready for squiredom. Being chosen as one was decidedly more difficult, though. While the kingdom you lived in was thankfully rather egalitarian, there was still some apprehension held by a sir knight towards taking on a young girl as his squire. Sure, there were lady knights, but you had to be born and raised into most of their orders. Wish you knew about that sooner. After 6 months of mercilessly beating the shit out of your training dummy with a frown on your face, a letter arrived declaring your application had been viewed by an interested knight. Sir Coach (it's a weird family name) of the Tiger Knights was honestly pretty damn great. He was a big, jolly man with carrot-red hair like the creatures his order held in such high regard, who was your equivalent of that fun uncle that only shows up every few months but always brings a present. Your skills were honed until they were sharper than your sword, and finally, sometime after your 19th lifeday, you were dubbed a hedge knight. As much as the Tiger Knight's liked you, the whole no-magic thing meant you couldn't learn how to turn into a tiger like the rest of them, which was kind of a deal breaker. 

As a hedge knight, you were pretty much just less likely to be called a peasant, and more likely to be able to find work. And today's the day you're going to do just that. You began your long-standing morning routine; Getting up, stretching, changing out of your nightgown into your work clothes. Putting your armor over that and adjusting the straps til' they were snug but still loose enough to move in, all after a good polish of course, and finally grabbing your two most prized possessions. Your sword was another birthday gift from your father. He had to get it forged by someone else but plied every last bit of magical skill he could to turn what was a decent looking hunk of fatal metal into a swiss army knife on steroids. You ran a finger over all the intricate little runes that lined its surface. He always said it "kept the magic fresh." Tiny little circles and triangles and diamonds with a series of unique dots and lines etched across them, each unique combination making you ever more dangerous to mess with. One that kept your blade sharp, one to keep it shiny, and one that kept it so durable you could hack fully grown trees down and not put a dent in the craftsmanship. Your favorite one was easily the 3 rings bound together, a little heart in the center space between them. "This one," your father said, "Represents our family. You and me, and even Brian. As long as you have this sword, with this rune, we'll always be together." You asked what kind of magic he used on it. Someone who's ever heard, read, or watched the cinematic interpretation of almost any hero's journey story would probably be guessing he said love, which is as sweet as it is cheesy and done to death. But yes, that's what he said. You love him and all but man he's corny. Your shield wasn't quite as ornate. Honestly you always laughed a little whenever you picked the thing up. It was a parting gift from Sir Coach that he made himself, and his artistic direction was... interesting, to say the least. The front had a tiger-man upper-cutting a knight in black armor with red eyes. He even put stars and the word "POW!" all over the thing too. It was absolutely ridiculous, and people laughed at it (and you for using it) but it was just too funny to paint over. On the back he wrote "You're GRRREAT!" and "Don't forget to eat breakfast!" Kind of an odd thing to stress specifically but hey, who wouldn't listen to a tiger-man telling you to eat breakfast? With the sword in its hilt and your Shield held by your hip, you dropped your helmet's guard and struck a cool hero pose. This was the last part of the wake-up routine, where you sorta zoned out and daydreamed about slaying monsters and scouring dungeons and saving damsels in distress. Or dudes. Honestly you could go either way. The one time your dad walked in on you like this you nearly shat yourself and yelled at him to get out before he could realize how much of a nerd you were being. He still ribs you about it every so often. 

When you reached the bottom of the stairs you looked around but couldn't find him. "Good morning, Vicky." You turned to see Brian, your father's apprentice and honorary foster brother carrying 2 plates of breakfast in his hands. "I already set the table for us, come on." You sat down with him and started to eat. Even eating took practice lately. Before you were just used to wharfing down your food after coming home starved from practice and questing but if you wanted to land a job you had to be civilized and sophisticated enough for your future high society bosses, and part of that meant not eating like a garbage disposal. "Y'know this is probably your last chance to just enjoy the food instead of taking little bitty nibbles at a nobleman's table." Bryan teased. "Ha-ha. You know that habits are hard to form and harder to break. I gotta get this down if I wanna get a sweet gig." "Ah yes, the noble knight Vicky, faced with the adversity of learning how to eat like a rich little prissy-pants as part of her job resume. Will her trials ever cease?" You leaned over the table and flicked him on the nose, sticking your tongue out as you sat back down. "So where's Dad?" you asked between bites. "Gasp, talking while eating? how uncou-" "Brian." "Alright, alright, I beat the joke to death, I got it. He said he had to leave early, a scribe from the town knocked on the door a little after we both woke up and said the potions the mayor ordered wound up getting spilled onto the floor in some sort of freak accident. They needed him to clean up the mess before it started melting through the floors or something." "Damn. I wanted to say goodbye before I left." 

Brian stopped eating, looking up from his plate at you. "...Wait so, you're really leaving? Like today?" "Brian, please, we've been over this." "I know, I just... I thought maybe you could stay a little longer-" "Brian it's been almost a solid month since I got made a hedge knight. I need to get my foot in the door as soon as possible, and job opportunities aren't going to find me here." "What about the town guard?" "Brian if I wanted to be a guard I could've joined with half the training. I want bigger things than this." Brian dropped his fork and started to take on an indignant tone. " "’This?’ What is home not good enough for you now?" "Why do you always need to do this?..." You sighed, rubbing your temples trying to alleviate the oncoming headache. "Do what, point out that things might not be as bad as you make them out to be here?" "Brian-" "Point out that maybe if you could wake up for a second you'd see that maybe adventuring isn't everything?" "Brian-!" "Point out that's it's gonna suck when you're gone!?" "ENOUGH!" You shouted slamming your gloved fist down onto the table. Both of you sat in silence, waiting for the other to speak up first. Waiting to argue again. "...I just don't want to lose you, Vicky." His voice was softer now, vulnerable. You sat up and went over to wrap him in a hug. "I'm going to come back Brian. I'd never abandon you." "Then stay." "You know I won't be happy with that. I want to see the world, I want to go places, I want to kick evil monsters right in their nads. I want to BE a knight... I can't do that in a little hill town" He hugged you back, then lazily picked at his breakfast. You let go and move back to your own plate, grabbing it in one hand and your fork in the other. "Hey." He looks up at you. You open your mouth as wide as you can and tilt the plate, scraping the eggs and meat bits down until you swallow it all in one gulp. He claps, and you hold up a finger that tells him "but wait, there's more." You wait for a minute, then beat your free hand against your chest, letting out a loud burp. "Oh man gross!" He laughs, waving away the air in front of his face. "See this is why I don't want you gone it's gonna be so boring! But... I get it. You never did like sitting around doing nothing." "It's why I always hated fishing." You put your plates in the sink and the two of you hug each other in a non-half-assed manner. "You come back with a decent story alright, and in one piece." "And you go out and date somebody. If I have to hear you complaining about being single when I get back I'm finding the nearest dragon and dousing myself in barbeque sauce. Anything's better than listening to your whiney ass." You punch each other, playfully, and then you do it. You step outside and he closes the door behind you after one last wave goodbye. 

This is it. From here on out you'd embark on a journey rife with pain and laughs, tenderness and tears, and come back to a home quite different to how you left it with one hell of a story to tell. One things for sure though, you'd learn to appreciate "Fishing."


End file.
